Page 90 of Slay Ride

“What?”

“You know, in the Bible. It talks about the lion lying down with the lamb. That’s us.”

“Lying down with the lamb, jackass, not going to pound town on it.”

I swallow and look around for a drink, but we didn’t think that far ahead.

“Same difference,” I say as I snag the champagne flutes. After a little more searching, I find a bottle of Jack in a cupboard and a couple of cans of warm Coke. I pour us each a glass. “My point is, you can’t expect everyone to understand right away. It’s going to take some time.”

“I know, but it’s time we don’t have here. Can’t you just let it go?”

Ouch.

I shrug. “Consider it dropped.”

Maybe it’s for the best.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cat

What the fuck am Idoing?

This is what my brain keeps screaming as I make my way up the stairs, because what I want to do and what I’m actually doing are two very different things. I want to be with Bennett. Instead, I’m heading to bed at nine p.m. like some pearl-clutching cat lady.

We mustn’t fuck the hot guy downstairs. What will our friends think?

God, I hate myself right now.

Then I notice the glob of mustard on my white shirt, and the hatred only grows. What am I, five? Did I think my tits needed a little flavor? Not that anyone will be tasting them anytime soon.

With a groan, I turn around and head back down the stairs. I paid a lot for this fucking blouse, and I’m not about to let a yellow splotch ruin something that took nearly a quarter of my most recent paycheck. A little soda water from the bar in the dining room should set things right again.

Maybe Bennett won’t be in there to tempt me. After we washed up the dishes we’d dirtied, he said he wanted to take a walk around the property. Well, a walk around the mansion’s interior. It’s too cold for an outdoor constitutional.

As I reach the foot of the stairs, a door opens and shuts somewhere on the second floor. Moments later, a smiling Maudlin Rose races down the hallway and bolts down the stairs wearing a necklace made of pink flowers.

That’s it. Just the flowers.

Grim isn’t far behind her. His sinewy legs piston beneath him, and with each spindly stride, it sounds as if he’s clapping.

I don’t want to look.

I don’t want to look.

But fuck, I do it anyway.

When he runs, his cock and balls smack against each other—and anything else within reach—which creates the sound that will haunt my nightmares for many years to come.

As they tear down the stairs and race through the main hall, they don’t notice me standing here, with my mouth wide open and my eyes wishing for a Helen Keller type miracle. I mean, seriously. The woman overcame so much, but she was also spared some visual horrors.

Rosie opens her mouth, and it takes me a moment to realize what she’s doing. No sound comes from her throat, but her stomach contracts, and I’ve never seen a smile so wide. She’s laughing. It’s silent, but it’s unmistakable now.

As she doubles over in a fit of silent giggles, Grim catches up to her and pulls her against him.

“Oh,mein Schatzi, I have caught you now,” he growls against her ear, and now I’m uncomfy.

I shouldn’t witness such a private moment, but I don’t know how to escape. If I move, they’ll see me, but if I don’t, they won’t. And I don’t know which outcome is worse.

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